


in the stillness, in the silence

by plumtrees



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9677549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: For one, wretched second he almost wishes Eita will change his mind, run and squeeze past the gap and back into his arms.But all it takes is one blink, and Eita’s behind reinforced glass, palm flat against the surface as he stares, cries, angles his head as the train begins to move. Without even thinking, Satori runs, tries to keep pace with the train as it accelerates, tries not to trip, tries to keep his gaze steady on Eita’s even as he falls farther and farther behind.I’m here. I’m still here. I’m—He reaches the end of the platform. The train passes him completely, leaving nothing but the rush of wind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is...a bit of a very personal piece and I'm posting it immediately after the words stopped coming to me. It may seem raw or unfinished or utterly unpolished and gdi it's practically nonfiction but idc but I just needed to let this out. I don't think I'll be able to sleep otherwise.

On a platform in a train station just beginning to empty, Tendou Satori stands.

The last of the noise is just beginning to dissipate, the wind carrying with it the sounds of a train chuffing in the distance, bringing along five hundred or so passengers, and his love.

When it finally sinks in, he’s alone. He’s alone and he’s cold and he’s numb and Eita is gone. Has been gone for the greater part of an hour, will be gone for four months.

On a platform in an empty train station, Tendou Satori cries for the first time.

 

-

 

 _It won’t be too hard._ he said, in his endless, easy arrogance, smiling. Smiling because that’s the only way he’d ever learned to deal when it hurts too much. Curve his lips into an expression so bastardized it’s lost the beauty of its real meaning. _Korea is just two hours and fifteen minutes away, right? That’s faster than a drive to Tokyo._

He made jokes. He laughed about the prospect of missing Eita, because it’s easier than actually facing the reality of his feelings, easier than acknowledging the pain he knows he’ll have to confront, when Eita is no longer within arms’ reach.

Even at their very last minute, he smiles, carefully keeping his gaze at the peak of Eita’s forehead, where his hair sways with the wind, where the dyed tips are just beginning to fade. He’d been with Eita so long that he can probably sketch his face from memory alone, down to the barest detail, down to every scar, every mole, every birthmark.

Despite that, it doesn’t even feel close to enough. Doesn’t even feel like he’d stared at Eita long enough to make up for the next months they’ll be spending apart. He spends those last, few, precious seconds just watching Eita, just listening to him, just committing what he can to memory before it’s nothing more than pixels on a computer screen, before they’re audio signals washed out by the static hiss of his speakers. The scarf he wears that day is Eita’s. Smells like him. But Satori knows it won’t last either.

The clock ticks like a horrid countdown to the end. Satori can already hear the train approach. Eita looks anxious, and when Satori draws him in for a hug, he’s shaking from something other than the cold. Like he’s being held together by the most fragile thread. Like it’s taking all he possibly can to not fall apart right then and there.

He doesn’t mention the wet warmth seeping into his sweater. Ignores the fact that his lashes grow heavier with every blink. Instead, he tilts Eita’s head up by the chin and kisses him, and hopes that it’ll be enough to make up for all that he said, for all those he didn’t.

He rubs his thumbs just under Eita’s eyes, catching the last of the tears before they fall. _You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Just call me when you get there. Just take care of yourself. Promise me. Promise me._ he says, and Eita nods frantically, clinging to his wrists, lips trembling. _Okay. I will. I promise. You too, Satori, please._

That’s all they manage to say before the train rolls in, the doors opening like a gaping maw of a monster, ready to take Eita away from him. Satori almost doesn’t let go, but Eita’s already twisting out of his grip, reaching for the handle of his bag, walking away, taking that final step and he’s inside the train, head turned to look back at Satori for what is possibly the last time.

For one, wretched second he almost wishes Eita will change his mind, run and squeeze past the gap and back into his arms.

But all it takes is one blink, and Eita’s behind reinforced glass, palm flat against the surface as he stares, cries, angles his head as the train begins to move. Without even thinking, Satori runs, tries to keep pace with the train as it accelerates, tries not to trip, tries to keep his gaze steady on Eita’s even as he falls farther and farther behind. _I’m here. I’m still here. I’m—_

He reaches the end of the platform. The train passes him completely, leaving nothing but the rush of wind.

 

-

 

_Can you see me?_

Satori can’t help but smile, affection bursting warm and fuzzy in his chest as Eita waves at the camera, as if it’ll help. He’s wearing Satori’s sweater, the sleeves lolling halfway down his hands. The quality isn’t so clear, but he can see the boxes still piled high from the backdrop of Eita’s video feed.

“Told you to call me when you got settled.”

Eita rolls his eyes. The smile slips off Satori’s face just the slightest bit when he notices the red lining the edges.

“Fine. I’m ending the call.”

“No!” Satori cries out, too sudden and too serious that it surprises even Eita, his hand drawing back from the keyboard. “No.” he repeats, more calmly, and Eita smiles.

“I was joking, idiot.”

Satori tries to smirk back, but it’s harder now, it seems, to curve his lips back into that familiar expression.

“How was the flight?” he asks instead, and lets Eita’s voice wash over him. He listens carefully and hates how different it sounds through his earphones, how cold and static-y and so obviously not here, beside him, but he tries anyway, tries to imagine the wisps of Eita’s breath that used to brush over his skin when they lied in bed just to talk about their respective days.

“I miss you.” he mumbles when Eita starts to trail off, maybe noticing that he isn’t listening.

It hasn’t even been a full day and he probably sounds needy and pathetic and clingy, but it’s the truth, and nothing feels more right than saying that.

“I miss you too.” Eita says, and Satori wonders if that crack in his voice is just interference. Eita shakes his head exasperatedly, licks his lips as he keeps his gaze down. “God, how are we even going to last four months at this rate?”

“I’ll call everyday.” Satori reassures, wishes he can reach through and cup Eita’s chin, tilt it up and kiss away the tears he knows are there. “I’ll call until you get sick of me.”

Eita chuckles, looks up again, eyes shining. “Highly doubt that’s gonna happen.”

He smiles shyly then, a blush dusting his cheeks, obvious even in the shitty lighting. Satori falls silent, and Eita does the same, and they just sit there in silence; just breathing, just watching. It’s all they will ever have for the next four months. It’ll have to be enough.

Some innumerable seconds, breaths later, Eita’s gaze falters, looking somewhere to the lower right like he’s checking the time. Satori wants to protest, because even if Eita ends this call now, asks him to sleep, he knows he won’t be able to.

Still, when had he ever managed to say no to Eita?

“Goodnight, Satori. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Satori answers, drawing out the last syllable just a little, just to keep Eita with him a little bit longer.

“Sweet dreams.” Eita says, and the screen fades to black.

 

-

 

They don’t manage to call everyday, no matter how much Satori wants to, no matter how hard he makes time for it. He’s only been there for three days but Eita’s already busy. Buying groceries, buying furniture, figuring out the commute routes, working out his schedule with his research mentor. Satori has a job that keeps him until 9, and by the time he gets home, Eita is already dead asleep, leaving him with only a goodnight message and an apology and a promise to try again tomorrow.

 _It’s fine_ Satori replies, along with _goodnight_ and his usual flood of cutesy stickers.

He lies down and pillows his head on his arm, like he always does now that Eita’s arm isn’t there for him to rest on anymore. He closes his eyes, and tries to sleep.

Minutes later, he opens them, reaches for his phone again and squints through the sudden brightness just to type one more thing.

_I love you_

 

-

 

He wakes up the next morning. It’s 7:30AM.

From across the sea, sometime in the past hour, Eita had sent his own flurry of stickers, and a short _Good morning. I love you._

He sent a selfie too, eyes puffy and face swollen from sleep, hair mussed, the neckline of his shirt awkwardly stretching over his collarbones, but he still looks beautiful.

He’s beautiful. Even from miles away. Even when he’s just pixels, zeroes and ones on an LCD.

Satori presses his thumb to the screen, where Eita’s cheek is, and aches at the coldness that meets his skin.

 

-

 

Satori curses himself for thinking it’ll get easier.

March comes and goes, with its flurry of pink, its festivals, its mellow rains. They’re nearing their halfway mark. Eita’s Snaps have been getting more and more colorful lately: of him attending local festivals, wearing a Hanbok, smiling like he’s no longer homesick, like he fits right in. He’s been updating his social media with stuff about his research, nights out spent with the friends he’s making.

Satori’s happy for him. He’s happy that, at least, there are actual, real people there that Eita can rely on, when the days get rough.

(Sometimes Satori hates that it’s not him, that it can’t be him, that he can’t hop on a plane to Seoul and hold Eita on the days where he shakes from the stress his advisor is unknowingly putting on him, the stress he’s unknowingly putting on _himself_ , because he always thinks he’s not good enough, that nothing he ever does is good enough.

He sees the photos though, the Snaps and the Skype calls that sometimes include Eita’s new friends. He sees the genuine stretch of Eita’s smile, the relaxed slouch in his demeanor whenever he’s with them, and even though he hates himself, he’s happy for Eita.)

Satori…well…he still has Wakatoshi, still has Reon. Sometimes Kenjirou and Taichi and Tsutomu too, and they’re enough. They take care of him and they worry in their own individual ways and Satori loves them, even though he never says it. He makes sure to send their well-wishes to Eita too, makes sure to update him on their lives. He sends Eita photos, sometimes with teasing captions ( _Shiratorizawa starting lineup reunion_ ), sometimes making a purposefully crappy edit of Eita sitting among them. It riles him up, but it makes him smile, and that’s always worth it.

Most of the time though, he sends photos of the most random things; of the shirt Eita had been hoping to pack but couldn’t find, apparently because it got wedged behind the washing machine; of the first bloom of the sakura tree where they live, which he captions it with _wish you were here_ ; of him wrapped up in Eita’s scarf. All that cheesy shit he learns from dramas, because he knows Eita likes it, likes the cheese and the cloying sweetness of clichéd words, no matter how much he denies it.

He calls that night, as per usual, and when Eita answers, bright-eyed and smiling, Satori asks _how was your day, sweetheart?_ and Eita will pout and blush and protest about the nickname but will answer anyway.

Satori never really liked biology, with its big words and _cytotoxicity_ and _in vitro_ but he likes how Eita’s eyes sparkle as he talks about it, as he explains it in a way that Satori can follow.

Satori never has the same level of enthusiasm when he talks about his work, but he does talk about the puddles he jumped across on his way home, the wonders of discovering one-pot pasta, the reptiles on display at the local pet store and _please Eita can we keep a chameleon think of how cool he’ll be—_

Eita laughs, the back of his hand coming up to cover his mouth, endearing as ever. He calls him silly, asks if the pasta’s any good, tells him he’ll think about it.

Before he hangs up he says _I love you_ and _I miss you_ and that’s the only time the sadness crawls back into his face.

Satori hates himself just a little bit more for putting it there.

 _Just a little bit more._ he says, for himself, for Eita. _It’ll be okay._

_Just a little bit more._

 

-

 

Satori notices that he’s too eager to sleep, lately.

He’s always had a bad case of insomnia, eyes wide and awake even when the rest of the world is asleep. He never feels tired, despite this, has always enjoyed the extra hours it afforded him, but more and more he’s noticed that the number of hours he’s been sleeping is no longer countable by just one hand.

 _Time flows faster when you sleep._ Reon said once, in that wise, all-knowing tone of his that Satori always found comforting. _You’re excited for something, aren’t you? You want time to move faster._

He glances at the calendar on the wall.

May.

 

-

 

It’s his birthday.

It’s his birthday, and as usual there's cake and candles and friends singing to him, but there’s no Eita and really, what the point of turning twenty-four then?

Eita sent a package though, one that came in the mail a week early but said over LINE that he isn’t allowed to open it until his birthday. Satori relents, even when his burning curiosity gnaws at the edge of his every waking hour. He’d promised Eita that he’d open it after his birthday party, over Skype because Eita wants to see his reaction.

Once everyone is safely sent home, he hurries to his room, grabs the box from the shelf and presses the call icon beside Eita’s name, a move he’s done so many times he can do it with his eyes closed at this point.

“Happy birthday!” Eita immediately greets, even though he was the first to say it last night, the second the clock struck midnight. Satori grins, lifting his bottle of beer in cheers. Eita lifts up his own bottle of soju.

“See? I haven’t opened it yet!” Satori lifts the box up to the camera, running a hand down its intact tape. He makes a show of shaking it, but notes its lightness, the sound it makes against the cardboard. Eita laughs, the rebound creating an odd echo.

“You can open it now!” he scolds, sipping on his drink.

Satori doesn’t waste any time, taking a box cutter and slicing straight down the middle, keeping only a bare centimeter of the blade out to not damage whatever’s inside.

The peels back the flaps. Stops at the sight of the contents.

Sweaters. Two of them. One is brand new, a deep burgundy with thick black stripes, a little distressed on the shoulders and sleeves. Despite that, the fabric feels amazing, soft and comforting and warm as he buries his face in it.

The other one...The other one is a little ratty, its fibers worn from use, the colors faded from being washed. He recognizes it from the crocheted pattern of pink lollipops all over the pastel yellow fabric.

It’s Eita’s sweater. It’s his _favorite_ sweater. He pulls it up to his face and breathes in the sweetness of marshmallows, so distinctly _him_.

He discreetly wipes the tears away as he tugs it over his head. The sleeves end at his wrists and it’s a bit loose, but he loves it, loves how it almost feels like Eita’s hugs.

“You like them?” Eita asks, looking a little anxious. Satori wants to punch him for being so blind.

“I _love_ it.”

The smile comes back to Eita’s face, small and relieved. “I’m glad.”

Satori tries to curl up comfortably, tries to wrap himself as much as he can in Eita’s scent. Eita’s smile grows bigger, peppered with chuckles when Satori tugs the sweater back up and wears it so that only his face pokes out of the collar, but it doesn’t last. They settle down and Eita has that look again, his eyes dim with guilt.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t _—_ ”

“Don’t.” Satori interrupts. “Don’t ever be sorry for that. You’re doing great up there. Just keep going. Besides, it’s not like I won’t have another birthday next year.”

Eita leans closer to the camera, pillowing his cheek on his arms. “It’s not the same.” he whispers, and Satori smiles, calls him an idiot and playfully kisses the webcam just to make Eita laugh again.

That night, he watches Eita sleep through the monitor, watches the occasional flutter of his lashes and wonders what he’s dreaming of.

He wakes up and his laptop’s dead, but the sweater still smells like Eita, and the sounds of his breathing still echo in the back of his mind, and for a while, it doesn’t hurt as much as it usually does.

 

-

 

In a platform in a train station crawling with people, Tendou Satori waits.

He isn’t sure if it’s the train or just his heartbeat, thrumming too loud and too fast in his ears. All around him people shuffle restlessly, some standing on their tiptoes, some toeing the safety line, as if it’ll ease their impatient souls.

The wind whips across his face. The train roars one last time as it slows to a stop, chasing out every single ounce of breath from Satori’s lungs. The train doors slide open. People flood out. Immediately there are cheers, there are names yelled out, there are heads turning to and fro, looking for any sign of a familiar face—

Something crashes into Satori’s chest, heavy and warm and smelling faintly of marshmallows, smelling faintly like the pillow Satori has been hugging to his chest for the past four months, like the sweater he wears when nights got too lonely.

When it finally sinks in, he realizes he’s already holding him, his body overtaken his mind, already knowing what to do, already pulling Eita so close he’s worried if he can even breathe, but that’s alright because Eita’s pulling him in just as tight, just as desperately, and he’s not even saying anything, just holding him and it’s all Satori ever wanted.

In a platform in a train station full of reunions, Tendou Satori finally remembers what home feels like.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEeFrLSkMm8&feature=youtu.be) by the way. I suggest you watch the MV, and watch it with CC on for the eng lyrics if you don't understand Korean. It just resonated so much with my current situation, and the feels train to me on a writing trip before I even realized what was happening. Sorry about this idk.
> 
>  
> 
> [plumtreeforest.tumblr.com](http://plumtreeforest.tumblr.com)


End file.
